With the Pope about to visit the UK, what better time to unburden yourself of anything that's weighing on your mind by posting it on the internet? Pay particular attention to the Seven Deadly Sins of lust, greed, envy, pride, posting puns on the QOTW board and the other ones. Top story gets to kneel before His Holiness's noodly appendage, or something

Vergib mir, Vater, denn ich habe gesündigt.
When I was a wee lad I was given a natty little electronic gizmo called Merlin. A fine toy it was, and it kept me occupied for hours on end. One of the entertainments it offered was charmingly called Music Machine. This assigned ten musical notes to the buttons on the keypad, with the 0 being a pause, and the carefree owner could "record" a top-ten hit and play it back in all its wonderful pre-Nokia monophonic glory.

The accompanying instruction manual included a selection of musical pieces, complete with their numeric instructions, one of which was Ode to Joy. I'd not been aware of that particular piece of classical bombast until then, but I fell head over heels in love with it. I played that beepy tune over and over and over until everyone around me was heartily sick of it. I'm surprised none of them threatened to buy me an LP (showing my age) of the recording just to stop me murdering Beethoven's memory.

Anyway, the consequence of my obsession with a monophonic beepy rendition of Ode to Joy is that even now, thirty years later, I can't, for the life of me, stop thinking of that infernal numerical sequence whenever I hear that part of the 4th Movement.

I sucked a cherry
On a knickerbocker glory, then put it back on the top - my sister (we were ten and eleven) really wanted it (she'd not seen me sucking it, obviously, I mean, I come from Herefordshire but we're not quite that weird) so I let her eat it before telling her what I'd done.

and that is the worst thing I've ever done...

apart from all the stuff that comes under the 'lust' category...I'd go to hell if I wasn't an atheist...it's great
(curvylittlegothheard the voices in your head on, Sat 28 Aug 2010, 23:01,
Reply)

I hate Niggers and Pakis.
Canada is not Canada anymore. They've ruined our country.Niggers, Pakis, Tamils, whoever...they've spoiled it for everyone.I wasn't raised by my parents to be racist but I've turned out this way. I know it's wrong but I can't help it anymore.

My supervisor for 11 years was a Paki and the nepotism was sickening. The few white people that worked there had to work the hardest and were always in some kinda shit for something. An American company bought us out then closed us down. I can't help but hold a grudge towards the US for this (and all the other jobs lost in this country). No, I don't hate all Americans...yet. The icing on the cake was when a black guy from Florida bought my apartment building in 2005. In 2007, three months after my husband Dave (kissylips) died, that rotten nigger evicted me. I was losing my home of 23 years. Though it was stated that the flat was for 'his own use', he rented it out. I took him to court and he lied to the judge. He even denied ever meeting Dave. I didn't have enough proof of the current tenant in my old flat. The judge repeatedly made me rephrase my questions and dismissed the little proof I had and my witness's statements on 'hearsay'. The ghetto-lord went on a 'nigger' rant to the judge. "This is racism ...everybody hates me cuz I'm black, she's lyin' ya 'onah". He went on and on without interruption. The judge lets him rant for at least two minutes and the lying, cheating nigger won.My close friend from the flat above was evicted the same way and she lost in court as well. We have a game while in the car..."punch-monkey!!" Like 'punch-buggy'(VW), we punch each other in the arm when we spot one. Now we have a word game. Yes, we're going to Hell but it helps to soothe the darkness and hate in our souls before we go. A black person with an umbrella: a brolley-wog, with a cart: a trolley-wog, on a bicycle: a wog-cycle, a black cop: piggley-niggley, etc.
(OGH, Sat 28 Aug 2010, 21:30,
102 replies)

Hello Mum, Dad,
Remember when the local SPACE scheme were organising activities for kids during the summer of 1980-something? And remember how,after much badgering, you forked over a few precious pounds that you didn't really have so me and little bro could go ice-skating? Well, when we got there the queue was massive and it started raining so we gave up and headed home. On the way we spent your money on a chocolate cake for us and a couple of mates. It was very nice.

Did you not wonder how your legendarily clumsy eldest came home from a days skating without a single bruise? That's because on the day we were supposed to go, as soon as you'd dropped us off and got out of sight we scuttled round to a mate's house and spent the day drinking coke and playing boardgames. Sorry.
(Big D, Sat 28 Aug 2010, 17:41,
1 reply)

Dear Diane,
Remember when a neighbour of yours found a pair of boxer shorts and a sock covered in shit in the ground floor store cupboard next to the back door?

Well, those were my boxer shorts and that was my odd sock, covered in my shit, from when I relieved myself on your stairwell after eating a dodgy kebab.

After only a few dates, I didn't feel comfortable enough to shit in your toilet, so I held it in all night, but on the way home I farted and followed through on the stairs. Panicking, I improvised a clean-up then threw the offending items into your communal cupboard before I went home.

Secret revenge
In uni I had an absolute bell-end of a boyfriend who was extremely manipulative and mentally and emotionally abusive towards me. As is the case with these 'relationships' we had regular explosive screaming matches. On one such occasion he had stormed out and I was livid.

I suspected him of cheating on me with a girl from uni as I was never invited out with him and his mates despite them being in my year and asking why I was never there. I knew he was off to the pub the next night and he only ever wore one shirt out. So I took it into a shower cubicle in our halls and pissed on it. I then hung it back in the wardrobe. Sure enough it dried off nicely and he wore it out the next night.

It turned out he was shagging that girl behind my back. I can only hope he clasped her firmly to his chest that particular evening.
(blandis bland, Sat 28 Aug 2010, 12:17,
1 reply)

I used to work at McDonalds
as did my mate. (And practically everybody else in my year at 6th form college). Anyway, I was in the backroom (where the big sinks are) doing something menial like sharing a bag of fries out into the baskets when my mate wandered in and sidled up to me."Guess what I've just done" he said smugly"Smacked an errant customer? Smacked that twat of a floor manager?" I guessed."No, I had a wank in the walk-in freezer"I splutter, "Urrghhh, you dirty twat, why?""Just to see if it was possible at -18C. It'll be frozen by now, I'm wondering if someone will slip." he added.Now that started me off chuckling as that twat of a floor manager came in and ticked us off for laughing, the miserable cunt.
(sandettie light vessel automaticNew Twitter - @bollocksreally, Sat 28 Aug 2010, 11:35,
1 reply)

I'm not confessing anything.
In the 1930s my grandfather William confessed to eating some plums, and they still haven't stopped talking about it.
(apeloveragecommitted the vile act of onanism on, Sat 28 Aug 2010, 10:03,
Reply)

Went to an Ann Summers party, years ago, and after a few bottles of wine the confessing started.
'Everything here is confidential, girls!' said the party organiser.

I listened wide-eyed as the other women told hilarious stories of infidelities and dodgy paternities. Great fun, but sounded dangerous to me. What if anyone blabbed?

Of course they did. The women went home drunk and told their husbands and partners the stories. The men mostly knew each other, so in a few days it all 'got back'.

There was an outbreak of black eyes and broken arms among local couples followed by a few break-ups and divorces. Men called out and punched other men.

Things quietened down eventually. I still live in the area and go to the odd party. Sticking to Tupperware though, it's safer!
(Juan Quaris clinging to her front teeth on, Sat 28 Aug 2010, 8:16,
4 replies)

I like being in the Fail Archive
There's something seriously fucked up about that.
(CactusZackShaved his coin purse on, Sat 28 Aug 2010, 4:26,
8 replies)

When I look back on my life
It's always with a sense of shame (I've always been the one to blame). Everything I long to do, no matter when or where or who - they've all got in thing in common - they're all sins!

Back in school they taught me to be pure in thought and word and deed They didn't have any success, though, as everything I long to do, it didn't matter when or where or who, they all had one thing in common - they're all sins!

So Dad, I hope you can forgive me. I tried not to do it. Many's the time I turned over a new leaf, then I just tore right through it. Everthing you taught me, I didn't believe it. Dad, you fought me, I didn't care, and I still don't understand,
(McChinamanPreferring the nomenclature since, Sat 28 Aug 2010, 4:18,
3 replies)

dear sharon
remember when we went to spain for christmas? you'd just had your "nervous breakdown", otherwise known as 2 months of self-indulgent whining about why your life was so shit, you spoilt bitch*.remember we went out on christmas eve, because i said i wanted to make sure you had a great time?well, that was a lie. the real reason i took you to the pub on christmas eve and got you shitfaced on aftershocks till 7 a.m is because i know very well that you can't handle your drink like i could back then. i knew that you'd feel so rough, you'd spend the whole of christmas day in bed, leaving me in peace to enjoy myself without your constant moaning.i'm sorry, i know it was selfish and petty, but you put me through months of mental torture. i suffered from your supposed breakdown more than you did, i seriously needed just one day away from you.

My confession is this...
My father, along with Chris Patten and a few others, is actually organising the pope's visit - after Labour officially made the invitation then did fuck all to prepare for it before being ousted from office. Trust me, it's an unforgiving, nightmarishly expensive, no-win PR situation.

At least JP II was a rough approximation of a decent human-being, however misguided. Ratzinger is a creepy fucker.

Fortunately I am not a member of this particular faith, so Catholic guilt is not a burden I've had to carry since I was a gullible teenager.

However the worst thing I've ever done - and I wish I could say a few rosaries and Our-Fathers to expunge this - was getting into a late night fight with a really scary down-and-out when I was a student. I pushed him into an icy canal and I didn't stick around to find out if he was OK. I really hope he was.
(HappybaraThe jungle came alive and took him, Fri 27 Aug 2010, 22:25,
Reply)

I like to steal
my girlfriend's knickers and put them on to have a wank sometimes. I'd do it right now if I wasn't going out in 10 minutes.

I once stole some of my ex-girlfriend's which she had borrowed off her mum. I did feel a bit dirty after that.
(Sharpo, Fri 27 Aug 2010, 21:06,
1 reply)

knoblong
dear adie,despite what you thought at the time, i never nicknamed you knoblong because you have a long knob.you haven't.i called you it because it looked like you'd flopped your cock onto the coffee table and twatted it a few times with a tenderising mallet.you have an oblong knob.
(Smash Monkeywool. lots of wool., Fri 27 Aug 2010, 20:48,
3 replies)

Dear Mr Popiness
If you truly believe that you are god's chosen representative on earth, and that he bothers himself with our tiny lives, and that he has the ability to fiddle with said tiny lives, then can't you save us all a lot of cost and trust him to protect you? I hear his help is meant to be free unlike the police who cost rather a lot of dosh.

Gary the Electrician
Gary, do you remember when we were 19 and were helping with my uncle's loft conversion? Do you remember me and Spud going into the loft to feed down a cable that you'd installed?We couldn't find the hole you'd made so we asked you to stick your finger up through the it so we could find it easier. Do you remember Spud saying, "hold on Gary, we still can't see it"?

Then we asked you to put your finger back up through the hole, and you did, then recoiled slightly because you didn't like the feel of what was on the other side. That's because Spud had dropped his trousers and pants and had squatted over the hole, with his sphincter hovering ever so close to it. You touched his ring that day and you never knew. It's the harderst I've ever had to try to stop myself howling with laughter.

For the hole
I claimed to be the real man from Del Monte. As a prodigious liar in the pursuit of minge, I backed it up with loads of 'facts' about peaches and tinned fruit in general ('pears are the only fruit allowed on the International Space Station because their shape is most structurally sound in a weightless environment'). Got blown like a rockstar in Barbados.

This one just happened yesterday
I went to Glasto with a bunch of friends this year, including my long-term best mate Matt. Our sense of humour tends towards the peurile and practical jokes are pretty commonplace, so while inebriated I thought it would be hilarious to write "TXT MATT 4 BUM FUN 07XXX XXXXXX" on the inside of the door of one of the portaloos close to our tents. I gave him a bit of a ribbing about it, but that was that - the festival ended and we all went home.

Yesterday he received a text reading "Bum fun?" and annoyed, he called them back to discover that it was from someone at Leeds festival - turns out the portaloos go from festival to festival as well, and his phone number was getting a whole new lease of life. His last text message to me read "I am so going to kill you"; my reply: "Ironically enough I am laughing my arse off".

Saturday update: Oh lord it gets better

yesterday I received: "Motherfucker just got this 'Matt I want bum fun plz i have poppers to loosen my sphincter x' bastard!"

I once stole £20 from my mum's purse
and bought enough fags and booze for me and my friend at the time to get rather intoxicated, whilst truanting. Good day it was.
(52486office lolled on, Fri 27 Aug 2010, 17:24,
Reply)

Counter-graffiti
While on a holiday travelling around Ireland with some friends, in one of the pubs we stopped at for lunch I went to the lavatory only to notice that someone had written "PIRA" on the back of the door.

Now, I'm usually a thoroughly law-abiding chap who wouldn't vandalise anything, but given this mark of support for a terrorist organisation, just this once I couldn't resist.